The Space Between
by Soleya
Summary: Season 5. "Daniel, people leave us all the time. Sometimes they die; sometimes they don't. And the hole they create when they go is the space they took up in our lives when they were a part of it."
1. Chapter 1

_I apologize ahead of time for this ranting created for my own catharsis, as "Jenna" just popped back into my life, too. Details have been changed to protect the innocent. And her. Oh, except the wedding train wreck. I'm not creative enough to have made that up._

 _Reviews always make me feel better... And this week, I could use it. We're supposed to "mend fences" Friday._

* * *

 _August 31st, 1997_

Sam Carter threw one last t-shirt into the open suitcase on her bed before heading toward the knock on her front door. It was Sunday, sure, but she wasn't expecting anyone, and she was more than a little short on time. Sneaking a peak through the curtains on her way to the door, she pulled it open. "Doctor Jackson."

"Captain Carter."

He looked a little uncertain, and she raised an eyebrow. "Is something wrong?"

"Uh... Actually, that's what I came to ask you."

The eyebrow went higher.

"Well, see, I asked Jack what we were doing next week, and he said we were on down time because you were on leave. And I just... I know things haven't been the easiest on you lately, and I wanted to make sure you were okay."

 _Things haven't been the easiest_. Well, that was a euphemism if she'd ever heard one. She'd been on SG-1 a little more than a month and had already been sold to a warlord. And she'd accidentally sexually assaulted her CO. And gotten stabbed. And knocked out in an elevator. Oh, and her fiancee – _ex-_ fiance, she reminded herself – had been dead just over a week. "I'm fine," she offered with a tight smile. Because at the moment, those things were the least of her concern.

He didn't buy it, still awkwardly standing on the porch. "Okay. I just... I mean, if you wanna talk, or..."

He meant well, and it made her feel like an ass for being short with him. "I'm sorry. Come in, please. I don't have a lot of time, though; do you mind if we talk while I finish packing?"

"Sure," he offered, stepping inside. And only as he followed her down the hall to her room did he ask, "Packing?"

"This leave has been on the books for awhile," she explained, bypassing the suitcase – her new teammate didn't need to see her underwear – and heading for the bathroom. "With everything going on, I guess I didn't mention it. I have to go to a wedding."

"Oh!" he said. Then, "That... seems like a lot of clothes for a wedding."

"It's not until next Saturday." Her voice echoed in the shower stall as she grabbed her shampoo and conditioner, then dug under the counter for a new bar of soap. When he said nothing, she glanced up to see him looking at her side-eyed. "I'm going early," she explained, sticking the bottles into a big plastic storage bag. "The rehearsal dinner is at their house, so we're painting and rearranging and borrowing tables. And then the bachelorette party is Thursday, the rehearsal and dinner Friday, the wedding Saturday. I'll be back Sunday night."

"Sounds like a lot of fun."

It was her turn to be silent as she dug out a new razor and tossed the can of shaving cream in the bag, too.

"Not so much fun, huh?"

She took a breath to answer, but couldn't find the words and just grabbed another storage bag.

"Don't like the groom?"

"I hardly know him." The only two shades of lipstick she ever used were already on the counter with her foundation, eyeliner, and eye shadow palette, and they went in the bag.

"You must be good friends with the bride, if you're there a whole week."

Upending it onto the counter, she opened the right-hand drawer instead, revealing the rest of her (totally ridiculous, as she wore none of it) stash of makeup. She had a feeling she was going to need it – for others, not herself – and started shoveling it away by the fistful. "I'm the maid of honor." Her few pieces went on top, and she zippered it shut.

"You sound... less happy about that than I feel like you should."

"I guess I need to work on that, then," she said. "Because for the next week, I am ever-faithful, staunchly supportive Sam Carter. Hold this."

She handed him another bag, the top held wide by the index finger and thumb on two hands, and he took it in kind. The cabinet behind the mirror was full of bottles and jars and tubes with names that sounded suspiciously like hair stuff, but what did he know? He just held up the plastic as she swept the entire contents of one shelf into it. "At least you're going prepared."

"Well, someone's gonna have to paddle the lifeboat," she said dryly.

One eyebrow peaked. "You don't think it's going to last."

That seemed to catch her off guard; her eyes swung over to stare at him for a moment before she let out a sigh. "I hope it does," she said sadly. "Really. I hope she's happy."

"The timing's just kind of rough for you," he surmised. She'd just lost the man she'd once meant to marry, after all.

"It's... a lot of things." Capping her toothbrush, she tossed the toothpaste in with her shower stuff, gathered up the bags, and headed for her suitcase. "I appreciate you checking on me, Daniel. I do."

"It sounds like I should have waited a week," he said. "What time does your flight get in? I'll bring ice cream."

She stopped to smile at him, though it reflected the sadness in her eyes. "Nine. And I think I'll need it."

~/~

Yes, she definitely looked like she could use dessert. Daniel left the grocery bag on the porch and headed down the sidewalk toward the curb where the taxi driver set her luggage and the giant, heavy bag that held her laptop. The setting sun made her look ten years older, gaunt, as she handed the driver a stack of cash.

"Did you bring that ice cream?" she asked as the cab drove away.

"Vanilla and rocky road." He grabbed her suitcase as they headed toward the house. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"No."

"Okay." Snagging the bag off the porch with his free hand, he followed her inside.


	2. Chapter 2

_2002_

"Carter, what the hell am I doing here?"

Sam glanced at her CO over the cocktail table between them and suggested wryly, for lack of a better answer, "Open bar later?"

"I have a bar of my own," Jack O'Neill groused. "Okay, fine, it's a cabinet. But it's mine. And there aren't... _people_."

Pressing her lips together a moment didn't manage to keep her from responding. "Now would be a bad time to point out that the entire purpose of this symposium is _people_."

"Yes," he said crossly. "Yes, it would."

"Mm. I thought so."

"Got a schedule!" Daniel announced as he broke through the crowded lobby, waving a brochure at them before setting it on the table.

As he flipped through the pages, Sam pointed a finger. "He's why you're here."

"No, he's why _you're_ here."

There was some truth to that. Though Daniel had been the one pushing for the trip, the topic of civilian / military cooperation dealt far more with her scientific specialty than his combat role. And she had at least a passing interest. But she was pretty sure General Hammond had sent Colonel O'Neill specifically _because_ he was so quick to pooh-pooh the idea _._ Though she'd never say that aloud.

"Okay," Daniel announced, running his finger down the schedule. "This morning's keynote is 'The Military / Civilian Relationship and Mutual Support.' Then there are breakout sessions... Ooh, the American Anthropological Association is giving a talk on cultural relativity and the benefit of civilian experts. A few on science... At three o'clock, everybody gets back together for 'Learning From Military-Civilian Interactions in Peace Operations.' That sounds-"

" _Awful_ ," Jack protested. "That sounds awful."

A smile tugged at her lips. "I think General Brooks said his session was at two."

"Hmm." Daniel eyed the schedule. "Yes. In Phoenix Room A. On aeronautics?"

"That's it. I'm supposed to catch up with him at some point."

Their archaeologist slid the schedule in front of his best friend. "What are you gonna go to, Jack?"

"The bar."

Beside them, Sam sucked in a breath loudly enough to garner not only Daniel's attention, but Jack's, as well. When they turned, her posture was visibly brittle. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah." The smile she plastered on was small, careful, and her teammates followed her line of sight to a pair of officers walking toward them. From the way the dark-haired man's hand rested on the woman's back, they were dating, at the very least. And unless the archaeologist was mistaken, he was pulling her along. And she wasn't smiling at all.

"Sam," the man greeted, and Daniel realized both their name badges read Lawton. And both wore simple gold bands on their fingers. "It's been awhile."

"Kurt," she answered in kind. "Jenna."

His teammate was obviously uneasy, so Daniel stuck out a hand over the table to give her a break. "Daniel Jackson," he offered. "I work with Sam. And, uh, Jack O'Neill."

Kurt shook his hand and offered the other man a nod and, "Sir."

The woman beside him just nodded. "Colonel." And then, though her shoulders wore the same emblem as Sam's, "Major."

A flash of something unrecognizable flickered across his friend's face as she stiffened a bit more. "How's Miranda?"

"Good," Kurt told her. "She's almost four now."

"Right. Good."

It was all so incredibly uncomfortable, and Daniel was trying to find a way to engage himself to take the pressure off his friend while surreptitiously looking for a way to get them out of there altogether. Jack beat him to it. "Carter, didn't you say General Brooks wanted to talk to you before his presentation?"

The question drew her gaze. "I haven't seen him."

"He's over by the food."

"He is?"

"Yup." To the other two, he offered, "Excuse us," and began threading his way through the crowd, clearly expecting his subordinate to follow. She did so with a tiny apologetic smile, and Daniel fell in behind them.

As they wove through fifty feet packed with people and finally broke into an open space behind the line at the breakfast buffet, it became one hundred percent apparent that Brooks wasn't there. Jack reached between two people in line, earning dirty looks as he snagged a muffin for himself, then held another one out to his second. "No, thank you," she said softly.

Daniel snagged it instead before turning his gaze back to his teammate. For the life of him, he couldn't decide if she was about to burst into tears or overturn the whole buffet table. "Who was that woman, Sam?"

"Jenna Lawton," she answered simply, and Daniel's glance at Jack confirmed that yes, they'd both already figured that out. And then she said, with a said shake of her head, "She used to be my best friend."


	3. Chapter 3

Daniel knew Jack was going insane, but he hoped Sam, at least, was gleaning something from the event he'd lobbied so very hard to come to. It was difficult to tell, because she'd said a grand total of three words since they'd all been ushered into the grand ballroom for that morning's keynote address. That he'd heard, anyway. They'd split up for the breakout sessions and only really seen each other at lunch.

And now she sat beside him, hunched, eyes on her knees as they waited for the afternoon session to start. She'd glanced up just in time to see Kurt and Jenna walk in, too, and her quick glances toward them since hadn't gone unnoticed. "When did you meet her?" he asked softly.

"Orientation at the Academy."

"Ah," he said. "Two new people in a new situation."

"Yep."

"What drew you?"

She shrugged. "We had some classes together. Dorms in the same building. Our fathers – our experiences – were a lot alike. We just... clicked. Then."

"How long did you stay friends?"

Her eyes slipped shut a moment, fingers moving as she did the math. "Twelve years."

It took him a moment to come up with a response to that. His longest friendship was with the man who was moaning and groaning his way through the conference. "Wow. Uh... what happened?"

She was spared from answering when Jack brushed past the people who'd taken aisle seats and settled into the empty chair next to her. "You two been having fun?"

"Yeah. It's been great," Daniel told him. Sam just nodded.

"Great," Jack echoed. "Well. This, then dinner. There will be alcohol."

The woman between them took a deep breath. "I second that."


	4. Chapter 4

Colonel O'Neill's six o'clock deadline didn't leave a lot of time, and Sam quickly swapped her uniform for a sweater and pair of jeans, shoved on her casual shoes, and ran a hand through her hair. Not content with the pale reflection in the mirror, she swiped on some blush and a slightly darker shade of lipstick before snagging her room key and heading for the elevator. It had been... less than swift, to say the least, and she knew she'd need the time.

Four solid minutes later, she strode into the elevator lobby and found Daniel sitting at one of the tables for breakfast. Alone. "Jack got a call from the mountain," he offered.

"Oh," she said. And because she knew exactly what he would want to talk about if she stayed, she meandered over to the window, watching the leaves detach in the wind and flutter to the ground.

He clearly hadn't gotten the message, because she sensed movement behind her just before his shadow appeared on the glass. "Twelve years," he mused. "What went wrong?"

"You don't stay the person you are at seventeen forever."

"Ah. You drifted apart."

She let the breath she'd taken out as a sigh. "And I didn't know how to bring us back. And then one day the drift became a canyon, and I... stopped trying."

The shadow nodded. "What happened?"

Her thin shoulders lifted in a shrug.

"You don't have to tell me. I just thought you might want to talk about it."

"I don't."

"Okay."

But still he stood there, his shadow over hers in the window, and she finally turned to lean against the glass, her eyes scanning the lobby carefully for Colonel O'Neill. There was no sign of him. "I broke up with Jonas over Labor Day weekend," she said.

He blinked at the non sequitur. "Jonas Hansen."

"Yeah. I was ninety-nine percent done, and I called her after a fight Saturday for advice. Support. Anything."

"And?"

"She didn't answer."

His shoulders lifted as he sucked in a deep breath, giving a slow nod. "O...kay. This was before cell phones, right?"

"Right. She wasn't home. I left a message. Fine."

"But not fine," he guessed.

"I called her the next day while I was packing. No answer. I called that night after Jonas and I had it out royally and I was crying on the bed of my hotel room. No answer. I called Monday after I'd spent all night awake and _alone_ ," she pressed, the pain starting to creep into her voice. "I called Tuesday. I called _Wednesday_. And finally on Thursday, I picked up the phone and set it right back down because I knew she wouldn't answer, anyway."

"Wow," Daniel said softly. "She never called you back?"

"Oh, she did. Sunday."

He blinked. "Had she been out of town?"

"I didn't get that impression," she said with a shrug. "It was like it never happened. The breakup, sure, she knew about that from her answering machine. But not _once_ did she so much as acknowledge the _week_ that had gone by or the dozen desperate messages I'd left. She didn't explain; she didn't apologize. We just... went on like everything was normal between us. Except it wasn't. At all."

"Of course not," he offered gently.

"About a month after that, she got engaged. She-"

"Ouch," he said.

She shrugged. "She liked the guy. And I was happy for her, Daniel. I was. And I wanted to help. I'd just been planning a wedding of my own, and I had venue ideas and lists of caterers and florists and... she wanted none of it. No input. At all. And that was fine, too, I guess, but every time she needed something from me – and that was how she talked to me by then: 'I need you to be here' or 'I need you to do this' – every time she needed me for a dress fitting or party planning or whatever, all I could think of was that hotel room. All I could think of was the time that I'd needed _her_. And she was just gone."

"Was her wedding a train wreck, at least?"

The deeper voice caught her completely off guard. Of course Colonel O'Neill hadn't been in his room; he'd been outside on his cell phone. At least he hadn't heard the part about her crying. She didn't think he had, anyway. "It was," she said. "But if I'm supposed to take some sort of vengeful joy in that, sir, I don't. Besides, I don't think she noticed any of it. I ran interference until one of my high heels literally broke. No, actually, I didn't stop running even then. I just went barefoot."

He raised an eyebrow, pitching a shoulder against the wall, one hand in his pocket. "Anything worth telling?"

"Oh, let's see. The best man had zero social skills to the point that he couldn't figure out how to take my arm at the rehearsal. I'm not sure he'd ever touched a woman in his life. Which was better than Kurt's father – on his second wife at the time – who got drunk at the big dinner that night and kept literally cornering the bridesmaids to try and feel them up. The best man dropped the rings during the ceremony. Jenna refused my advice to get a touch up kit from the person who did her makeup, so she only got pictures without giant black mascara cheeks because we wear the same foundation shade. The limo was too small for the entire wedding party, but that was almost okay, because there were bees at the photo site, anyway. The champagne was at the bar instead of passed, and just after the DJ asked people to get some and every single guest was waiting in line at the bars, the best man picked up his microphone and started the toast."

Daniel winced. "If you are the company you keep, Kurt's not doing very well."

"No," she said flatly. "The people assigned to sit at his mother's table didn't come to the reception, so she sat alone. And then his dad got drunk again. And I _think_ the best man was trying to hit on all of us, too, but honestly, he was so incredibly awkward, I couldn't tell. One of the bridesmaids' daughters threw up all over her dress. And when all was said and done and the happy couple had left and the only thing to do was the cleanup, Kurt's entire side disappeared. Groomsmen included. No, wait, that's not true – the best man left long before that. Before Kurt and Jenna did, actually. He told us all during his toast that he had tickets to a midnight showing of _Back to the Future._ "

"Classy," the colonel drawled.

"Suffice it to say, if I ever get married, I have a long list of what _not_ to do."

Daniel cringed. "Most of it seems to center around finding a guy whose best friend isn't completely inept."

"There is that." She sighed. "Jenna called me after their honeymoon. I was still annoyed; she made excuses. And that was the last time we really talked. I'm sure she thinks the wedding is what ruined our friendship. But it didn't. It was just the last straw."

"One last miserable, socially awkward, sexual harassment-laced straw," Colonel O'Neill offered, and though it wasn't really funny, his dry tone made her laugh. "Dinner's on me. Whaddaya feel like?"

"Anything but Italian," she decided. "The catering was the _worst_ alfredo."

"Sweet!" He pushed himself away from the wall. "There's a hot dog cart around the corner."

"No!" Daniel protested.

"Chinese."

"No."

"I wasn't asking you."

Sam smiled. "There's a pub on the next block." And before they could fight about it, she walked out.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam Carter was hung over. Really, goodly, truly hung over. For the life of her, she couldn't remember the last time she'd had so much to drink that she couldn't remember crawling into her own bed, but she didn't. She'd woken up in her jeans, and she wasn't even sure she'd gotten there on her own two feet, but Colonel O'Neill had been on the phone again and Daniel had just brought her copious amounts of water with an amused and sympathetic smile. Luckily, she didn't tend to be a talkative drunk, or she'd be horrified.

But she felt absolutely terrible, and to punish herself, she'd chosen the front row of the breakout session. Some anonymous seat further back would have allowed her to nod off, and Major Samantha Carter did _not_ fall asleep at work.

The only problem with her plan was that if she vomited, it would be on the presenter's shoes. She sucked in a deep breath and held it. And even though checking her watch was rude, she took a glance. Two more minutes. Thank God.

"And that's about all I have," the speaker announced. "Any questions?"

Her prayer that there would be none went unanswered, and she deep breathed her way through the next two minutes – and the two minutes that ran over. And finally, as the presenter closed his PowerPoint presentation and the rest of the room stood, she got gingerly to her feet.

And promptly found the other problem with her plan. Kurt Lawton stood by the door, watching her. And her seat at the front meant the room would be practically empty by the time she reached him. The nausea rose again.

"She misses you," he said.

Unable to get out through the packed door, she diverted to the coffee table and grabbed an iced bottle of water. "I'm not sure what you want me to do about that."

"You're back on the map for the first time in five years. Seems like a good opportunity to mend fences."

"I tried that, Kurt." A tiny sip of water set the nausea level back to tolerable. "I guess I just don't know how."

"She blames me, you know. Like it's my fault. Like I somehow drove you away."

"Then she still doesn't get it," Sam told him softly. "You had nothing to do with it. When you get cancer and your hair falls out, you don't blame your new shampoo. And that's all you were. Incidental."

He raised an eyebrow. "Who was the cancer?"

"We both were."

"I don't buy that," he shot back. "I've seen toxic relationships. I've been in them. But they're toxic pretty much from the get go. The way she talked about you – you were like sisters. You had everything in common. And you expect me to believe it just went bad?"

"That's just it. We had everything in common. The same school, the same friends, the same goals. We thought about things the same way. We came to the same conclusions, made the same decisions, followed the same path. Until one day I realized we weren't anymore." Her sigh was heavy. "You've never met the Jenna who was my other half, Kurt. She was gone before I ever heard your name. And I wasn't the same girl I was in college, either."

"So?" he pressed. "Friendships grow. They change!"

"They do. Sometimes when two people's paths diverge, they do more than just keep in touch. They build bridges. They walk each others' paths sometimes. They find ways to integrate the new path to their own. But you can't do that unless you recognize the divergence in the first place. Unless you both accept the fact that you're on different roads. And Jenna just... stood on her path and called for me. For a year and a half, I built bridges and she burned them. When I would get further away, she would just call louder. For a year and a half, Kurt, I knew there would come a day when I could no longer hear her. And the decision to keep walking broke my heart."

"A year and half," he echoed. "You stopped talking to her right after our wedding."

"I know." She picked at her thumbnail. "When she told me I was her maid of honor, there was just... no graceful out. There was no way to turn that down without firebombing our relationship, and I wasn't ready to do that yet. I still had hope. And by the time I'd lost that..." The tears welled up at the pain that managed to be so distant and still so deep, and she blinked them back. "I just wanted her to be happy, Kurt. So I planned her shower and threw her a party and did my damnedest to make that the best day of her life. But it was already over. She was just too blinded by you to see it."

"What you're saying is you lied to her," he growled.

"And maybe I was wrong," she said with a shrug. "I second-guess that decision all the time. To this day. But I didn't see the upside to throwing everything into turmoil six months before your wedding."

"The upside is that our wedding album wouldn't make her cry," he spat. "It's so easy for you to put all the blame on her, isn't it?"

Her answer was sharp and immediate. "I _don't_. We both changed. We grew apart. I'm sorry she's still upset over it. But you know what? She's not the only one." Tossing her water bottle in the trash, Sam turned on her heel and stormed out.


	6. Chapter 6

The conversation with Kurt had Sam already late to the next breakout session. And only after a field trip to throw up in the nearest bathroom did she remember that Daniel had dragged Colonel O'Neill to something about respecting archaeological finds in the field and that they expected her to join. Stealing another bottle of water from the lobby, she opened the door as quietly as possible and slipped inside. Daniel was halfway up the room, rapt, but the Colonel had chosen the seat next to the one nearest the door and caught her eye.

She slipped into the seat he'd held for her. "You're late," he murmured – not to be an ass, but because it was genuinely unlike her.

"Sorry, sir."

"Sick?"

If she'd thought it through, she would have said yes. Instead, she whispered, "Partly." At his raised eyebrow, she expounded, "I got hung up."

"Patching things up with Jenna?"

"Getting read the riot act by Kurt."

"Ah. Next time, flag me down or something."

"To save me from myself?" She frowned, but said, "Thank you, sir."

A person in the next row turned to stare at them, effectively ending the conversation as Colonel O'Neill turned his attention to stare back. Sam just put the cold bottle of water to her forehead.

~/~

Daniel had spotted Jack and Sam and an empty chair at a table in the middle of the room before he'd headed for the lunch buffet. Finding Jack alone, then, with space on both sides, had him shooting his friend a questioning look before he'd even reached the table. The other man pointed to a portal in the corner in response.

The archaeologist set his plate down and headed for it. It took a moment to figure out how to open the airwall door, but he stepped through to find his other teammate slouched in a chair, head back against the wall, her arm thrown over her eyes. "Gonna make it?" he asked quietly, straddling the chair in front of her.

"Only because I have to," she groaned back.

"It's just two more breakouts, the wrap up, then dinner," he soothed.

"Don't mention food."

"Right."

"God, Daniel, how much did I drink last night?"

It was a shame she couldn't see his wry smile. "We probably should have stopped you. Sorry."

The arm dropped as she slowly tipped her head up to look at him. "Out of curiosity," she said, "did I make it back to my room on my own?"

His head shook.

"God. Sorry."

"Not a problem."

"Did I say anything stupid?"

"Uh... You called Jenna a few choice names, but that was about it. Don't worry, you didn't try to strip or kiss one of us or anything."

"Small favors."

"What, you don't think you'd be a good kisser when you're plastered?"

She arched an eyebrow. "Drunk or sober, you will never know the answer to that."

His eyes flew wide in feigned indignation. "I carried you home last night! Took off your shoes, tucked you in... put you on your side so you wouldn't choke to death in your sleep..."

"Touché." It took a good, long moment, but she propelled herself to upright, then leaned forward to press her lips gently to his cheek. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"I'm going to go throw up now."

Crossing his arms on the back of the chair, he murmured, "I have such a way with the ladies."


	7. Chapter 7

"You gonna make it, Major?"

Well, Sam hadn't thrown up in almost four hours, so odds were good. "Yes, sir."

"We can skip this," Colonel O'Neill offered as they headed for the large ballroom where the banquet was set.

"If we do, are you going to pretend we did it for my benefit, or for yours?" she asked with a smile.

"Let's call it mutual," he offered. "Fifty-fifty."

Her grin widened. "I would love nothing more than to blow this popsicle stand once and for all, sir, but Daniel's been deep in discussions with one of the anthropology guys since the wrap up ended. It seems wrong to leave him here alone."

"Wrong is making the two of us miserable for his benefit," the colonel said wryly.

She made a face. "Like I did last night?"

"We were hardly miserable," he dismissed with a shrug. "You weigh nothing."

Her face fell. "You carried me, too?"

"Guys!" Whatever Daniel had been talking about, he was excited. "We're at table seven with Doctor Lingstromer."

"Lingstromer," Colonel O'Neill repeated slowly.

"Where did you find our table?" Sam asked. In response, he headed to a smaller table in the corner and picked up three little paper tents. Their names were on them, with "Table 7" inscribed in smaller print.

"I saw the marker earlier," he said. "It's right over..."

His voice trailed off as he spotted it again. So did the colonel, and he took over. "Oh, fer cryin' out loud."

There, at table seven, sat Jenna and Kurt Lawton.

"You know what? I'll just go tell Doctor Lingstromer-"

"No," Sam interrupted, taking a deep breath. "Come on."

It was clearly a bad idea, but the two men followed her to their table and the three empty seats beside the man Daniel greeted enthusiastically. Sam introduced herself to him and the pair of kinesthesiologists that rounded out the table before saying, "Kurt. Jenna."

"Sam," Kurt greeted.

The three members of SG-1 took their seats, two content to ask for the butter and salad dressing while Daniel prattled on with the man beside him. The colonel ignored the salad almost completely while Sam poked at it, keen on rabbit food but not on making a mad dash for the bathroom. Soon, those plates were whisked away and replaced with an entree of grilled chicken that looked safe enough, though she couldn't help but wonder how long it had sat in a warmer and what temperature it had reached. Tentatively, she cut a bite off the end. It was dry and chewy, and she moved to the butter-soaked carrots.

"I can certainly understand wanting to stay on American soil," Daniel was telling their neighbor, "but I have to say, experiencing it in person has been incredible. If you ever have the opportunity, I would certainly encourage you to get out in the field."

"I have to admit, the association has some mixed feelings about sending people out there," Lingstromer replied. "Even for peaceful operations. Let's face it, Doctor Jackson, the military wouldn't be there if there weren't some danger."

"There will always be some danger," he argued. "Any time you're talking about a culture that's vastly different from ours, you run the risk of misunderstandings, and those can be dangerous. I've seen plenty of peaceful missions go wrong. But for those of us willing to take the risk, the payoff can be enormous."

"I'm certainly not the type to want to do that," the other man replied. "I like my hot showers and indoor plumbing too much, I'm afraid. However, I can see the appeal for some."

"Well, if you do go, the Air Force sets up the nicest housing by a landslide," Colonel O'Neill said, shoving another piece of chicken in his mouth.

Lingstromer smiled. "I'll keep that in mind. But I have a deeper concern. The study of other cultures should bring us closer – unite us. It should aid in conflict resolution. A friend of mine is on the ground in Afghanistan for exactly that reason – to help mitigate the differences between the military and the civilian population. And yet he's been asked multiple times to determine if a village has ties to al Qaeda and how big the threat is. He feels like they're asking him to draw targets. And that's not our place."

"With respect to your friend, Doctor," Jenna spoke up, "his place isn't in a combat zone at all. Especially if he doesn't want to be part of the fighting."

"You have to respect his attempts to minimize conflict," Daniel argued. "That saves lives. Military lives."

"You have to offset how much he may help with the fact that the soldiers out there are now responsible for him if it all blows up. That instead of watching their own backs, they're watching his. Untrained civilians have exactly zero place in military combat ops."

She shouldn't have done it. She was in a foul mood with an unhappy stomach and an aching head, and she should have just stayed out of it, but Sam said, "For your information, Jenna, the man you're talking to is an untrained civilian who's been watching _my_ back in combat for the last five years."

"The down and dirty combat of deep space telemetry?" she shot back. "Give me a break, Sam. With the military's restrictions on women, you wouldn't know real combat if it bit you in the ass. You couldn't handle it."

"Jenna," Kurt warned softly.

"Couldn't handle it?" she echoed in disbelief.

"Carter."

"You couldn't even handle when Jonas brought it home!"

Oh, things were about to get very bad. " _Ladies!_ " Jack intervened.

The two of them snapped back, eyes down. After a moment in silence, the woman across from him began sawing violently at her chicken as the one beside him curled her fists in her napkin.

A moment later, Carter said, "Excuse me," pushed away from the table and disappeared.

And a moment after that, Jenna Lawton headed the opposite direction.


	8. Chapter 8

If Sam had been even the slightest bit hungry, she wasn't anymore. She had zero intention of going back to the banquet. She didn't need to, anyway; Daniel and Colonel O'Neill would finish their dinners and come for her, she knew. So she made herself easy to find, staring out one of the lobby windows.

But the face that stepped into the reflection wasn't the one she'd expected. "I'm sorry for the crack about Jonas," Jenna told her softly. Then, "I'm sorry for a lot of things."

Sam sighed. It was shallow, but she'd meant to get out of town without having this conversation. She settled for, "Me, too."

"I know you worked your ass off at the wedding. And nobody made it easy for you. Especially not Kurt's family."

"Don't blame Kurt. He had nothing to do with it."

"He did, actually," she said. "And he likes to play the martyr, regardless."

She shook her head. "It wasn't the wedding, Jenna. It was-"

"Labor Day weekend."

Stunned, Sam could only stare at her. In the year leading up to the wedding, her friend had never once acknowledged that.

"I didn't get home until Monday afternoon," Jenna said. "Kurt and I were at Myrtle Beach."

"No, that was later," Sam argued. "Weeks later. You didn't get engaged until October."

"No. That's what I told you, but that's not when he proposed. I told you how, but I lied about when."

It took a moment for her to even respond to that. "Why?"

" _Why_?" The other woman's eyes went wide. "Sam, I came home Monday on top of the _world_. All I wanted to do was call you and tell you about this amazing thing that had just happened to me, and instead I find four messages on my answering machine from you in various stages of hysteria about how you just broke up with your fiance. Right when I had just _gotten_ a fiance. And I couldn't... I couldn't call you, Sam, because I was over the moon. And I knew it would all spill out and just make everything worse."

Heart clenched, she shook her head. "Jenna... I would have been happy for you," she managed, tears pricking at her eyes. "Yes, dealing with your wedding instead of my own hurt, but I did it. Because I wanted you to be happy."

"You sure didn't act like it," she shot back. "You were bitter about everything."

"No." So much for not fighting. "I was bitter about the fact that I'd become a _prop_ to you. No more than another woman in another bridesmaid dress to make your wedding photos symmetrical. We were _partners_ once. My opinion mattered. And then you got engaged, and you just... you cut me out."

"Because I didn't want you dealing with it!" she protested. "Because I knew it was painful. So I asked for the bare minimum."

"You should have said something," Sam pressed. "I would have told you you were wrong. I wanted everything to be perfect for you."

The other woman's jaw set. "Yeah, well, maybe I didn't want to hear that."

"Why not?"

"Because if our situations had been reversed, I wouldn't have done the same."

A chill rippled through her in the stunned stillness. The breath she found was weak. "Jenna, I don't-"

"Carter!"

Sam spun at the urgency in the familiar voice, but found she couldn't meet Colonel O'Neill's eyes as he hurried through the lobby, Daniel at his heels. She felt raw, flayed open, and was certain every ounce of emotion displayed prominently on her face.

"We gotta go," he told her, his tone leaving no room for interpretation. "Your dad called."

Not trusting her voice, she nodded and headed his way, moving quickly through the door he pulled open. She caught the confusion on her ex-best friend's face just in the second before the door closed. And a second after that, the light took them.


	9. Chapter 9

Three-quarters of SG-1 rematerialized in some sort of hangar that looked military enough with a young man in uniform behind a console. "Sir. Ma'am, the beaming prototype is very nice."

"Prototype?" Jack asked.

"Prototype!" she protested, her fingers brushing her face to make sure it was all there. "As in, not done!"

"If you'd step to the ring platform."

They did as they were asked and found themselves on a Tel'tak, staring at Jacob Carter's back. He barely spared them a glance as he pushed the ship into hyperspace. "Kali is attempting a military takeover of the naquadah mines on P5X-717."

"What's on P5X-717?" Daniel asked.

"Teal'c," Jack answered. "And SG-13. And we're headed there by boat because..."

"Because Kali buried the Stargate to keep the Jaffa there from alerting Ba'al. And, presumably, to prevent him from sending more ground troops. A Tok'ra close to her got the word out."

"Well, thanks." Jack leaned casually against the wall as Jacob finally turned around. "What's the plan?"

"Don't get killed." He blinked. "Sammie, are you-"

"Fine," she said, though she surely still looked upset and off-kilter. "I'm fine."

"Okay, then. As lovely as you both look in your blues, I snagged some BDUs. And weapons."

"Hear that, Carter?" Jack asked as he headed for the cache. "I look _lovely_."

She opted to change behind her father's back while the other two went to the cargo bay. "What's going on, Sam?" Jacob asked from the controls.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing," she snapped. "Except the stupid Goa'uld and their stupid infighting. Why can't everybody just get along?"

Spitefulness was fairly uncharacteristic of his daughter, and he raised an eyebrow. "Was the conference that good?" Jacob asked finally. "That pulling you away to save your own teammate has you this mad?"

"No. Jenna was there."

"Jenna," he echoed blankly. Then, "Jenna _Rigsby_?"

"Lawton. She's married."

He chewed on that for a moment. "Well, that must have gone well."

"Yeah. You bet." Shoving a zat into her thigh holster, she grabbed a P90 and headed for the cargo bay.


	10. Chapter 10

"We're cloaked," Jacob announced. "Approaching the fleet."

"Cross your fingers," Jack said.

"Scanning for their radio frequencies now," Sam said. "If they're not talking, they're going to be much harder to find."

"Can we send them a message?" Daniel asked. "On that frequency?"

Her eyes flicked over. "If we have to. If they're hiding, I'd rather not out them. I think we need a lower orbit, Dad."

"Moving in." His fingers deftly tapped at the controls.

"Daniel," Jack spoke up from the console behind them. "Can you pull me up a map of this planet's ring platforms?"

"You bet."

"Entering low orbit," Jacob said.

Sam worked the controls again, reinitializing the scan. "I'm not finding anything, sir."

"Give it a minute," he coached.

She did, impatient. Then, "There."

Her CO glanced up. "Got 'em?"

"Sending you their location, sir."

Sure enough, a map popped up on his screen with a single blinking blue dot – and a whole lot of red ones. "Jaffa?" he asked.

"Yes, sir."

Daniel hit a few buttons, displaying circles in orange. "And the rings."

Jack studied the map for a long moment, making his plan before he asked, "Can I talk to them?"

"Uh, yes, sir." She input a few commands. "Go ahead."

He hated just talking into space. "SG-13, this is SG-1. Repeat: this is SG-1. Do you read?"

The sound of battle immediately filled the space. "Holy hell, it's good to hear your voice, Jack." It was Dixon – and he sounded okay.

"What's your status?"

"Wells busted his arm. Teal'c took a hit to the shoulder. We are mobile, but cut off from the Gate. Repeat: there is no path to the Gate."

Jack nodded. "That's okay. There is no Gate. Head two klicks southeast to a ring platform."

Silence filled the ship for a long moment before the radio reengaged. "What's Option C, Jack?"

He spun back to the map, eyes flickering over the troops and platforms again. He wanted more information – more details on the ground conditions – but there was no way to guarantee they weren't being overheard. "Four klicks west. The path is narrow."

"Understood. Gonna need a hand at the end."

"See you then." One hand slid across his throat to cut the signal.

"Still receiving, but not transmitting, sir," Carter told him.

"Pull up the map," he ordered, then crossed the space and pointed to a set of rings. "Jacob, can we see what's down there?"

"You bet." The ship glided into position beside a sheer cliff face, and Jacob spun to find a creek turned deep ravine headed east.

Carter glanced down at the map. "You think SG-13 is in there, sir?"

"I do. And they've got Jaffa on either side. It's gonna take 'em a minute. Where's the ring platform?"

"Not gonna work, Jack," Jacob said with a frown. "They're further west. Up top. They'll never get up the mountain."

"I'm not so sure about that, Dad. Look at the density here."

Jacob squinted at something, tapped the screen a few times, and squinted again. "A mine."

"You think it's in the mine?" Daniel asked.

The cloaked Tel'tak sank into the valley, just feet over the heads of the Jaffa soldiers below. And in the face of the rock was a giant hole. "Yeah," she said. "I do."

"It's cover," Jacob said.

"Except that there's no way to tell what's in there," his daughter said. "Workers, Jaffa... I have no idea. For all we know, it's collapsed, and the rings won't work at all."

Jack's nod was slow. "Well, they have to cross that valley. So we have to give them a hand. Look at me, about to jump into a war zone with an untrained civilian and a woman who wouldn't know combat if it bit her in the ass. Gear up."


	11. Chapter 11

They transported down in a circle, weapons at the ready, but the mine was quiet. "The entrance is that direction," Carter said, her voice low.

"Let's do it." Glued to the walls in full stealth mode, SG-1 headed for the valley. "SG-1 to SG-13. What's your status?"

"SG-13 is in position," Dixon responded.

"Headed your way."

The tunnel ahead turned, the light kissing the wall to their left, and Jack watched a moment as a shadow moved through it. Back to the wall, he ducked his head around and back. "It's a hundred feet to the entrance. Two guards outside, facing east. When they go down, this whole valley's gonna light up."

"We need to get as close to the mouth of the mine as we can before that happens," Carter said, "or our only possible line of fire will be straight at SG-13."

"Such a shame you don't have combat experience," he drawled, earning a roll of her eyes. "Nice and quiet. Let's do it."

They turned the corner as one, weapons at the ready as they crept through the dim corridor toward the entrance. The Jaffa loomed in front of them, silhouetted in the archway, staff weapons at their sides. They'd made it to within twenty feet when one of them tipped his head and turned. Jack opened fire, taking him down immediately. His partner fell just half a second later, and that was Carter's doing. And then they were running toward the entrance and the sound of gunfire from the ravine.

Carter took one knee on the left side, Daniel above her, raining bullets on the Jaffa to the north. Jack did the same on the south side, tucked carefully inside the mouth of the mine. SG-13 and Teal'c topped the ravine at a dead sprint, firing away, dodging staff blasts left and right as they charged to safety. "In, in, in!" Jack called as they ducked through the funnel of gunfire and into the mine. "Carter, go!"

Weapon still ready, she led the charge back into the cavern. The P90s echoed louder as Daniel and Jack fell in behind SG-13, still guarding against the Jaffa who tried to follow.

"Stand by, Dad," she yelled into her radio as she skidded to a halt at the far end of the ring platform. SG-13 crowded in, then Teal'c, then Daniel, and finally her CO. " _Now_!"

They reintegrated on the Tel'tak and grabbed each other for balance as Jacob accelerated hard toward safety.

"Thanks for the rescue," Dixon offered as his team finally took a breath.

Jack waved a hand magnanimously. "Oh, any time."

Sam headed to the makeshift armory, unclipping her rifle and securing it for storage. "How's your arm, Teal'c?" she asked as her teammate appeared beside her.

"My symbiote will heal me. Are you well, Major Carter?"

She blinked. "What?"

"Are you well?" he repeated. "You appear..."

What? Hung over? Exhausted? Sick? Angry? Or was her face just back on wrong from the "prototype" transportation beam? She glared at him in anticipation.

He'd spent long enough on Earth, apparently, because he just nodded a bit and said, "I am mistaken."

"Good." She ditched her vest, too, and went to find a quiet corner.


	12. Chapter 12

Daniel shuffled the bag of takeout to one arm and ignored how the bag of chocolate bars swung and banged as he knocked on Sam's front door. It took her longer than usual to answer, and when she did, her face was drawn. He wondered if she'd slept at all. "I brought dinner."

For a second, he thought she'd turn him away. But she pushed the door open further and stepped back instead. "Thanks."

Only as she headed to the kitchen did he spot the cell phone clutched in her hand. "Did you call Jenna?"

She shook her head.

"Did she call you?"

"No."

He set the bags on the counter and didn't open them. "Are you _going_ to call her?"

She just stared at nothing for the longest time, silent, and he wondered how long she'd been asking herself that question. And then she said, "No."

"Okay."

"Daniel, don't-"

"I'm not," he interrupted. "If you want that door closed, leave it closed."

Her eyes locked with his, a scowl on her face as she said, "You might as well hand over that chocolate right now, because I know damn well that's not the last you have to say about it."

Sliding the grocery bag her way, he said, "I just wonder why. You two were obviously in the middle of something when Jack and I walked in, and this may be the best opportunity you get to finally set all that pain aside. She was your best friend, Sam. By all accounts, your other half. If there's even the slimmest chance of getting that back, shouldn't you take it?"

One hand landed on top of the bag, eyes closed, and he was about to tell her to eat the chocolate rather than commune with it when she said, "Daniel, people leave us all the time. Sometimes they die; sometimes they don't. And the hole they create when they go is the space they took up in our lives when they were a part of it. But..." Discontent, she blew out a breath and shoved the chocolate out of reach. "If Jonas Hansen walked through the Stargate from another dimension tomorrow, we wouldn't get back together. Not even if he were sane. Not even if he could promise me nothing but joy for the rest of our lives. And it has nothing to do with love. Or want. It's because I put other things in the the hole he left. Work. SG-1. Janet and Cassie. And those things were small at first. They didn't fill the hole, but they grew into it. And beyond. I couldn't be with Jonas, Daniel, because his space is gone. I could... squeeze him in, I guess. Shove him into the tiny gaps between everything else. But it would never be what it was."

"And it's the same with Jenna," he supposed.

Sam nodded. "She'll never be my other half again, Daniel. Do you understand that? Because when I saw what I was losing, I filled it in. There _is_ no other half now. Because I'm whole."

It made sense, and he opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted by the doorbell. One eyebrow raised, she brushed past him and headed toward the front of the house with him at her heels.

Jack O'Neill stood on the porch, Teal'c looming over one shoulder, each with a brown paper bag. "We brought dinner!"

She grinned as his brown eyes shifted from her to the man behind her and back. "You guys didn't coordinate this well."

"If Daniel would have answered his phone..."

"Oh. Whoops, sorry," he said.

Her head tipped toward the kitchen. "Come on in. What'd you bring?"

"Italian."

"Daniel?"

"Thai."

"Well, that'll make for an interesting dinner." As her two newest visitors set their food on the counter, she noticed the colonel frowning at the grocery bag of chocolate. "What?"

"That I didn't think of," he mused. "But I did get tiramisu."

Her eyes went wide. "And we have a winner."

Daniel shuttled four plates to the counter as Teal'c pulled out silverware and serving spoons, then delicately ripped four paper towels from the roll. The colonel grabbed three beers (and a bottle of water for Teal'c) from the fridge in the garage as the other two began pulling out containers. It was a well-rehearsed routine, born of five years of team nights and time together and the ability to read each other so clearly. As clearly as she and Jenna ever had.

She ran an eye over the containers – salads and pad Thai and carbonara. All of her favorite things. And it eased the hurt a little.

But it didn't need to fill the hole. Because her team had done that long ago.


End file.
